


The Broken Circle

by Kwiekweg



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 13:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18522814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kwiekweg/pseuds/Kwiekweg
Summary: Ten year old Rhian is discovered to have magic in the strained years preceding the mage rebellion. How does a young girl cope with her emerging powers when embroiled in a fight she never wanted any part of? Far from home, with few allies, she navigates a world that is suddenly full of danger that her peaceful life in Ferelden could have never prepared her for.





	The Broken Circle

The sun shone down upon the green hills, warming the blades of grass as they reached up to grasp it. Rhian carried an empty bucket in each hand, choosing to get water from the clear running stream behind the stand of trees that bolstered her family’s homestead like a firm belt holding back the belly of a portly, jolly man. The well in the town center would have been an easier walk, but the woods were more pleasant and peaceful. Her bare feet squelched in the grass, the sun drying the last of the morning dew, and her skirts swished rhythmically with her gait. When she reached the peak of the hill, she looked around to be sure nobody was around to see, and let both buckets go tumbling to the bottom. She watched as they rolled and bounced, and finally disappeared into the treeline. Then, hitching up her skirt, she crossed her arms across her chest and dove into the long grass, rolling gleefully down the hill after them.

  
At the bottom of the hill, she lay looking at the blue sky for a spell, and then stood up and inspected her pinafore for evidence of her folly. A green streak ran along the edge, but that was easily cleaned and none would be the wiser. Her mother would put the switch to her if she knew, but that was a pretty big if. Rhian was a clever girl, and rarely got caught indulging in her fancy. She found her buckets, no worse for wear, and continued on into the wood towards the stream.

The rich soil was cool under her feet, and the sunlight dappled softly through the cover of the tall trees. She followed a butterfly jauntily hovering over the clover, and listened for the call of the jays raucously arguing over the insects attracted by the flowing water ahead. She decided to fill her buckets further upstream at the small waterfall. The water just seemed more crisp the faster it went. She knew that was foolishness, it was all the same water, but she imagined that she could taste a difference.   
When she arrived at the falls, her buckets forgotten and dropped back in the bush, she hiked her skirts back up and waded ankle deep into the chill of the stream. Rhian splashed and stomped for a few minutes and looked for frogs under the smooth, flat stones. She took a moment to scrub the grass stained evidence from her dress. It wouldn’t do to have this beautiful morning fouled by her mothers annoyance at her refusal to act as a proper lady should. Everything in Rhian's world at that very moment was idyllic and perfect.

  
Knowing that her mother was waiting for the water to be brought back got her back on her toes searching the bushes for her buckets once more. Once she had retrieved them, she filled them at the most vigorous section of the small waterfall, certain that the water she gathered would be cool and crisp and tasty. She took a long sip, and it was as refreshing as she knew it would be. She set the buckets to the side, preparing for the heavy trip back up over the hill, when a flash of color caught her eye.

  
She stood upright and her sharp gaze scanned the trees around her. “I know you’re there. There’s no use staying hidden.”

  
Stepping out from the bushes, with a cocky grin that she supposed was meant to be disarming, was a dirty boy in even dirtier clothes. He was followed by two other boys, no less unkempt than their leader. She scowled when she saw who it was. Rikor was the son of the field hands that were hired on for the season’s sowing at the Breckenworth farm. He was known around the village as a troublemaking lout, and his father was too busy drinking away his wages to keep a close eye on him. _Or to keep his clothing tidy,_ Rhian thought as she looked at the boy with disdain. The other two were his lackeys. The shepherd boy from two farms over, known for being shiftless and lazy, and the tavernkeeper's nephew who was trouble before the other two had even shown up.

  
“What do you want?” she asked, not attempting to hide her disapproval at their presence. If these three were gallivanting through the woods, she knew they weren’t up to any good.

  
Rikor's grin spread wider, and Rhian was unpleasantly reminded of the hogs squealing before their slop was poured into their trough. “Now what would make you think that we wanted anything but a pleasant walk through the woods?” His shepherd friend looked nervous, “Rikor, maybe we should go somewhere else. She’ll tell my pa and I’ll get a switching, I will.” Rikor didn’t even look at him. His gaze, slightly predatory, was fixed on Rhian. “Aw shucks, she ain’t going to tell nobody nothing. She ain’t even supposed to be here right now, are you cricket?” He was right, but not entirely. She wasn’t incredibly invested in hiding her jaunts into the forest, as her parents both grew up in the village and had many such childish jaunts of their own. Her concern at this point were the boys advancing on her. Rhian steadied her bare feet at the precipice of the waterfall, but feeling the smooth stones shift beneath her gave her no illusions of security. The three of them were a bit older than she was. The shepherd and the tavern boy both had thirteen years under their belt, and she didn’t know how old Rikor was other than he was cultivating a careful mustache above his sneering lip.

  
“So,” he drawled mockingly, “little farmgirls like to do things they shouldn’t. Maybe you should join us.”  
“Rikor!” the tavern boy whined plaintively, “We didn’t bring that much with us!” Rikor ignored him and yanked a half full waterskin out of his clutches, as he continued to advance on Rhian. She looked around for an easy escape and found none. She was in a vulnerable spot, perched delicately on the slippery rocks above the waterfall. Instead she planted both feet firmly as he continued towards her.

  
“No thank you. I’m not interested!” she stated firmly, and Rikor just smiled. “Oh come on now. Ballo nicked this grog from his uncle’s special stores, and its guaranteed to tickle your knickers.” The shepherd boy guffawed stupidly from behind him and was quickly silenced with a cuff to the side of the head from Ballo.

  
Rhian realized that she was in a sticky situation. Rikor was blocking her only means of escape. She couldn’t hope to knock them over and run, particularly with her tentative footing, and the rocks at the base of the small waterfall were likely to break her ankle if she jumped the ten feet down. Like a wolf sensing the fear in its prey, Rikor lunged forward and grabbed her by the scruff like a kitten, and the other two boys splashed into the water to seize her arms.

  
“Let me go!” she yelled, kicking her feet out and catching the tavern boy in the shin. “Aw crikey, Rikor! She got me right in the bone! I’m gonna mess her up!” He grabbed on her pigtail and yanked hard, his fist balled up to punch her as he hopped around in the stream on one foot. It would have been comedic if Rhian hadn’t been so panicked. A forearm wrapped around her neck in a chokehold and she bit down hard on the freckled flesh. She tasted blood in her mouth as the shepherd boy backed away clutching his arm to his chest.

  
Suddenly she was on her back in the stream, water in her mouth and nose as she gasped for air. “Now then, you little twit! We just came out here for a little fun! You cant get off getting all violent with us!” Rikor was suddenly on her chest with both knees, as Rhian struggled to keep her head above water. He uncapped the waterskin and forced it into her mouth. She sputtered and choked at the burning liquid filling her mouth instead of the air she so desperately craved. Her lungs cried out for air, and the pressure of the much heavier boy perched on her chest was immense. She felt the pressure building, and dark spots danced before her eyes. She was losing consciousness quickly as she clawed helplessly at the hands holding the waterskin at her mouth.

  
She couldn’t scream, but suddenly the pressure in her chest seemed to do it for her. It burst out of her like foaming cider from a burst cask. A gout of flame ignited the liquor pouring out of the waterskin and flashed violently into Rikor's face, sending him tumbling backwards over the waterfall and out of sight. The other two boys stood, dripping with water, mouths agape as Rhian picked herself up seething with rage. Her hair, dripping and disheveled hung in a tangled mess over her face.

  
“Get out of here!” she roared. She pointed an accusing finger at the two bewildered boys that remained, and they practically tripped over themselves getting out of her way and disappeared into the underbrush towards the village. As she stood there, dress torn and soaking wet, she had no idea what had just happened. Glancing over the edge of the waterfall, she saw Rikor bleeding from the head and splashing water on his singed tunic. When he saw her looking over the edge at him, he too turned tail and ran.

  
She blinked. _What the heck just happened?_ She stumbled out of the water, grasping a branch to steady herself, and watched in amazement as the blackened twigs crumbled to ash under her palm. _Fire? From where?_ She climbed up the riverbank, her buckets forgotten and tipped in the bushes, and slowly made her way back towards the homestead. 


End file.
